A Match Made in Bed (Spinster Heiresses #2)(35)

“Possibly,” Willa agreed. “Still, I thought him very attentive.”

He’s like his father, secretive and conniving—

Cassandra shut her father’s cruel words from her mind. That didn’t mean she was all trusting. “It is merely a marriage of convenience,” Cassandra said offhandedly, but in truth, it meant the beginning of a new life for her.

A knock sounded on the door. Her bath had arrived. Stalwart servants filled a hip tub. While Cassandra bathed behind a screen, Willa created a nosegay for her to carry to the church.

Betty returned with the dress pressed and helped Cassandra dress and style her hair. The maid loosely curled it, catching each curl in place with a rose and diamond-tipped pin.

By the time the hour came to go to the chapel, Cassandra felt a true bride. As she went out of her bedroom, she touched her mother’s pearls and believed she felt her presence.

Outside, the May sky was a clear blue with only a fluffy lamb of a cloud or two. The Camberly family chapel was a short walk from the house. The stone building was nestled under aging firs. Headstones were in the yard around it. Some were quite ancient. The newest was the dowager’s husband, Camberly’s grandfather.

Inside, the chapel felt very close with its low ceiling. It could seat maybe eight people. Soren was already there, along with a local rector. The duke and his grandmother were also present. He smiled in greeting at Cassandra but then his gaze wandered to Willa. Cassandra silently vowed she would do what she must to keep the amoral Camberly from her dear friend.

Soren approached. He was attired in his formal clothes. Someone had seen to trimming his hair and yet it still looked a bit wild. She found she didn’t mind. Indeed, she rather liked him the way he was.

“You are beautiful.” He spoke without preamble as if he could not contain the words and didn’t care who heard them.

Heat rushed to her cheeks. In that moment, she felt appreciated and treasured. He acted as if he wanted to marry not the heiress or the woman he was saving from disgrace, but her. As if he valued her.

The rector broke the spell. “Are we all gathered, my lord?” he asked Soren. Someone had said he was a cousin of the duke’s who had the living here.

“Are you ready, Miss Holwell?” Soren said, as aware as she that soon she would no longer have that name.

“I am, my lord.”

Soren nodded to the rector. “Then let us begin.”

He sounded confident, and yet did she detect a hint of nervousness? That must mean this marriage was important to him.

Cassandra realized she wanted that to be true.

The ceremony began. The rector’s voice reminded her of her father’s sonorous tones. Unbidden, her sire’s warning once again tried to echo in her brain. He is like his father, secretive—She shut it out.

Instead, she focused on her future. Her gaze met his gray eyes that now appeared open and honest. He was her childhood friend.

He was also the man who self-assuredly pledged his troth to her, and then he placed a plain gold band on her finger that was solid and real.

The ceremony was over. The rector introduced them as man and wife. As Lord and Lady Dewsberry.

Soren gave her hand a squeeze. She had been so caught in a swirl of emotions, she hadn’t realized he was holding it.

The dowager was the first to wish them happy. Willa gave her a hug and then turned and made a pretty speech to Soren about how fortunate he was to marry one of her dearest friends.

Cassandra noted that Camberly watched Willa, a bit of interest in his eye, and yet he made no untoward move.

Soren tucked her hand in his arm as they led the procession up to the house where the other guests waited for the wedding breakfast. “Let me tell you again that you look lovely,” he said.

Cassandra smiled. She was too tall for lovely. Everyone told her that, and yet his words sounded honest. They touched something deep inside where she hid everything she hoped was true and knew wasn’t.

A great cheer went up when they walked into the dining room. The dowager insisted she and Soren sit in the center of the table side by side, and they were toasted repeatedly. The food was plentiful, the punch, wine, and ale more so.

Cassandra drank. One must have a sip when one is being feted. However, she wanted her wits about her when Soren took her upstairs. She was more than a touch anxious.

She did have a notion of what to expect in the bedroom.

However, seeing Camberly with Letty Bainhurst had been shocking. It hadn’t been poetic at all. In fact, it had been far too intimate. It had also been completely counter to what she’d thought would happen.

The toasts grew rowdier and more suggestive. The niceties grew thinner and Cassandra became uncomfortable. When she’d attended weddings, they had been for family or very close friends. They were discreet, enjoyable affairs.

Here she was with the crème of London Society and she found them crude when they overimbibed. And unhappy.

No wonder they hopped into different beds. The drinking, the laughter, all of it masked what people truly felt. Lord Bainhurst was flirting with the lady to his right. His wife was once again exchanging glances with Camberly. If there was a happy marriage in the room, Cassandra was hard pressed to find it.

Lord Drucker, one of Lord Bainhurst’s friends, stood and lifted his glass. “Here’s to having enough money to buy a husband.”

The comment was met with mocking laughter and “Hear, hears” mingled with cruel twitters.